Happy Valentine's Day
by Eileen
Summary: Crowley has a surprise planned for Valentine's Day, but he won't even give Aziraphale a hint, other than that he'll like it. Demons aren't into holidays celebrating love; what's going on? And what's this about a snake in the book shop? Is this part of the surprise? Conclusion up now!
1. Chapter 1

TUESDAY

"You haven't made any plans for Friday, have you?" Crowley asked while they were waiting for the check to arrive.

Aziraphale had to think for a moment. "The whole day?"

"Just the evening portion, really. You're free, then?"

"Yes, I am, but why?"

The demon gave him a cheeky grin. "That," he said, "is a surprise. Wear something nice, and don't bother bringing your wallet. I'll take care of everything."

"You have reservations, then?"

"Nope, not telling you!"

"Not even a hint?"

Crowley shook his head, still grinning. "You'll love it, though."

"Oh, really?"

There was a _chink_ as the waiter set down a small tray containing the bill for the evening. "Well," said the angel, "if you're paying for Friday night, I'll cover this." He tucked his platinum card into the little slot and signaled the waiter.

One short credit card transaction later, the two celestial beings were out on the street, walking back to the bookshop since it was only a short distance away. Aziraphale had found that he actually liked walking. Less exhausting than running, anyway. And of course the company made a difference. They weren't walking hand in hand, but they were so close together that they might as well have been.

"I thought you hated Valentine's Day," he remarked to Crowley.

"When did I say anything about Valentine's Day?"

"I know that's what Friday is. I've had decorations up in the shop for weeks now. Did I spoil the surprise?"

Crowley stopped and turned back to look at him. "Angel, exactly what part of 'I'm not telling you' do you not understand?"

"That wasn't a no!"

"It's all you're going to get. Until Friday, at least."

"I'll figure it out! I've always been good at puzzles."

"Yeah, sure." The keys were in the demon's hand, jingling madly.

"You're not . . . coming in for a drink, then?" Aziraphale asked.

"Not tonight, love. I've got a rhododendron with droopy leaves who needs a good talking-to."

"Ah, well. Will I see you tomorrow?"

Crowley looked over his shoulder, a manic grin on his face. "Oh, that's a big yes. Definitely."

That sort of answer didn't exactly set Aziraphale's mind at ease. He watched the demon drive away and wished that he knew what he was up to.

* * *

WEDNESDAY

There was a poster in the window of the shop when Aziraphale opened up. He couldn't read it from inside, so he stepped out the door to get a better look at it.

TODAY AT 2! it proclaimed.

SEE CRAWLY THE SERPENTINE WONDER! ALL AGES WELCOME.

"Serpentine wonder?" Aziraphale wondered aloud. His eyes wandered back to CRAWLY.

It couldn't be . . . could it?

There was one way to find out. He went back inside and used the desk phone to make the call, even though it was still early and Crowley was probably asleep, or at least still in bed. The phone rang four times and then the customary message kicked in. The angel hung up without bothering to leave a message and decided to try again a bit later.

His second attempt was successful.

"H'lo?" a sleepy voice muttered.

"What's going on at two o'clock?"

"Wh' year 'zit?"

"Oh, come off it! You put a poster up in my window advertising some sort of . . . snake demonstration at two this afternoon. Why?"

There was a pause. "Oh, **that**. Well, I thought it'd be good for your image. You know, in the community, and that. Educational, too."

"Crowley, this is a bookshop, not a-a zoo!"

"You're introducing the public to your new mascot. You're welcome."

Aziraphale was furious. "I wish you'd spoken to me about this before deciding to go ahead and do it! Now I have to spend the morning researching snakes."

"No need. I mean, you can if you want to, but I have the copy written out for you already. We'll go over it at lunch."

"Are we having lunch together today? I thought Thursday was our day."

"Normally, yes. But this week is special. I'll need all day Thursday to prepare for Friday."

"Don't go to a lot of trouble just for me."

"You're worth it, angel. See you at one."

"One?"

"Lunch, remember? I thought we'd try the Thai place today. Always wanted to try Thai food."

"You were in the Orient for two hundred years!"

"Yes, but it was different back then. Back in the days of the glorious Empire."

"Which? British, or Siamese?"

"Does it matter? Till one, love." He hung up before Aziraphale could say another word. It was his way.

The angel hung up the phone to find a teenage girl standing there staring at him. "Oh! I'm sorry, dear. Have you been waiting long?"

She cracked her gum at him.

"Please keep that in your mouth, if you could. Do you need help finding something?"

The purple lips parted. "You got 'ny books," she drawled, "on talkin' to boys?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact I do. This way." He led her to the Regency section and found what he was looking for halfway down the shelf. "There's nothing like Jane Austen for romantic repartee. I used to tell people it was like _Moonlighting_, set a century earlier."

She glanced down at the book as she would have a cockroach on her tuna sandwich. "I hate boring old stuff."

"Oh, it's not boring at all! It's really quite funny and exciting. Please, give it a chance. If you find you don't like it, bring it back and we'll find something else."

"Weeeelllllllll . . ." she dragged the word out as long as possible. "A' right. How much?"

He rang her up, dropping one of his cards into the bag. "Have a nice day, dear."

On her way to the door, she stopped and looked back. "'Z it true there's gonna be a snake here?"

"Yes. At two o'clock."

"Cool! Where is it?"

"Oh, he's not here yet. He arrives just after lunch."

"Can we touch it?"

"We'll see. Thank you, dear girl. Take care now!"

She wasn't the only one. Aziraphale had four more customers before one o'clock, all asking about the snake. One man wanted to know what kind of snake it was.

"Erm . . . a red-bellied black snake," he improvised. "From Australia."

The man's eyes widened. "Dangerous, then?"

"Not if you know how to handle it." After six thousand years, he could honestly say that he knew how to handle Crowley. Mostly. There were still times when the demon surprised him, but they were few and far between.

Another teenager[2]saw the poster and came rushing in. "You gotta snake? Cool!"

"He hasn't been delivered yet. Come back at two if you want to see him."

"Does it do tricks?"

Aziraphale closed his eyes for a moment so the youngster wouldn't see him rolling them. "When he wants to. Snakes aren't really easy to train; it's not that they're not clever enough," he added hastily, hoping that Crowley would forgive him, "they just can't be bothered."

"Wicked! Oh, what have you got for _Romeo and Juliet_? We're reading it in school."

Aziraphale showed him to the section with Shakespeare books, and made his second sale of the day.

Right on the heels of the young man came a middle-aged woman who looked like she was expecting trouble. "Is it safe?" she demanded.

"Is what safe, ma'am?" he asked, knowing full well what she meant.

"The snake! Is it safe to keep a snake in a bookshop? It could bite someone! It's not poisonous, is it?"

"Venomous," he corrected her. "Plants are poisonous, animals are venomous. No, it is not. **He **is not. When not on display, as it were, he is kept safely contained upstairs. You have my word on that."

She didn't look entirely convinced. "Something will happen, I'm sure of it."

"You're welcome to come and see for yourself, dear lady. Bring the family! All are welcome."

"Hmph!" She turned on her heel and stalked out of the shop.

Just before one o'clock, a man of about fifty in a Gryffindor[1] scarf ducked in looking for a video.

"We don't sell videos, I'm afraid," Aziraphale told him.

"Not even of movies made from books?"

"I'm sorry, no. Have you tried Amazon?"

The man ducked his head. "I thought it'd be cheaper here."

"Sorry, no."

"What's that notice on the door about a snake?"

"Yes, we're having a demonstration at two o'clock. You're welcome to come."

"Will there be drinks?"

"Why would there be drinks? This is a book shop, not a pub!"

"Can I bring my own?"

"No." Aziraphale herded the man in the direction of the door. "Come back at two. You can have drinks afterwards, wherever you like." He slammed the door, locked it, and flipped the sign to CLOSED.

"Crowley has a lot to answer for," he muttered.

* * *

[2] Aziraphale had read the Harry Potter books many times, and was convinced that he himself was a Hufflepuff, though Crowley insisted he was a Ravenclaw.

* * *

[1] Shouldn't these children, Aziraphale thought, have been in school?


	2. Chapter 2

Lunch at the Thai place went well. Aziraphale enjoyed his meal, even though he wasn't quite sure what he was eating. It was delicious, whatever it was. He had let Crowley order for him.

"Oh, before I forget." Crowley passed over a sheet of paper with SNAKE FAST FACTS at the top in bold letters. "Just a few notes for the presentation."

"You never told me why you decided to do this thing."

"Kids like snakes. They'll get to see one, up close and personal, for two hours a week. The customers who don't like snakes can stay away for those two hours; no harm done."

Aziraphale blinked. "This will be a weekly thing, then?"

"If that's all right with you."

"And you don't mind?"

"To tell the truth, I could use some snake time. A little out of practice, if you know what I mean."

A woman who was passing overheard this, jumped to entirely the wrong conclusion, and glared at them both. Aziraphale tried to give her an apologetic smile, but Crowley just ignored her.

"Well, then. We should get back to the shop and get things set up. Probably quite a crowd gathered by now." It was a quarter till two. "We'll go in the back way so no one sees us."

"Best not to spoil the illusion," the demon agreed.

* * *

There was indeed a small crowd gathered outside the bookshop, which had only happened once in all the years of its existence: that glorious day in 1945 when Mr. A. Zachariah Fell[1] had been listening to the radio with the shop door open to let in the breeze, and an announcer broke in to proclaim the good news that the war was finally over. There had been dancing in the streets on that day.

In contrast, this crowd was less jubilant and more expectant. They pressed up against the front window, trying to catch a glimpse of the promised reptile, but the curtains blocked any view.

Those who stood with their ears pressed to the door heard voices, although they couldn't make out the words. One of them was clearly Mr. Fell. The other must be the friend who was bringing the snake. After a moment, the voices ceased. The clock chimed twice.

And the door was unlocked and flung wide.

"Come in, come in!" Aziraphale beckoned. He directed the crowd into the main area of the shop, where there stood a tall object under a dark covering. "Thank you all for coming. In just a moment, you'll get to meet our new friend, but first let me tell you a bit about him. Um . . ." The pause was more for effect than because he'd forgotten the next bit of his speech. He had already memorized the Snake Facts handout on the ride over. "Since the beginning of time[2], mankind has had an uneasy relationship with the serpent. Snakes are very misunderstood creatures. For example, only a small percentage are actually venomous. Some are constrictors, who kill their prey by squeezing them to death. Most are harmless to anything larger than a mouse. Have any of you ever actually seen a snake up close?"

A few hands went up. The young lady who had bought the Jane Austen book earlier half-raised her hand. "Yes, my dear?"

"Does it count if it's a dead snake?"

"That depends. Was it dead when you found it?"

"Yeah, it was squashed in the road."

"Oh, dear. Luckily, Crawly is not allowed to cross the road by himself. You will all get a chance to see him and even touch him, if you're gentle about it. He doesn't like rough play."

From under the canopy came a hissing that sounded almost like laughter.

"And now, without further ado . . . here's Crawly!"

Aziraphale whipped the cover off, revealing the large black snake coiled around a T-shaped wooden stand. He hadn't asked where the stand had come from; it had already been here when they arrived.

"Crawly is a red-bellied black snake, from southeastern Australia. He's a bit larger than the typical specimen, ranging from one to one and a half meters long, and they can mass up to ten kilos. They are venomous, but rarely attack humans unless provoked. He's very well-behaved, our boy, so you should have nothing to fear. In any case, I have a few vials of antivenom on hand if the worst should come to worst, but I assure you he's perfectly safe.

"Here's an interesting fact about red-bellied black snakes: they can swim. They live in wooded areas around ponds or streams, and have been known to stay submerged, waiting for prey, for as long as twenty minutes. They hibernate in the winter, but have been known to emerge on sunny days to soak up the warmth. Just like the rest of us, eh?

"And now, I'll open the floor to questions."

The boy who had been in earlier in search of Shakespeare spoke up. "What do they eat?"

"Mice, mostly. The local pet shop sells frozen feeder mice, if any of you are interested in keeping your own snakes. In the wild, they eat frogs and salamanders as well as small rodents."

A woman who had been in the shop once or twice raised her hand. "Is it legal to keep those as pets?"

"Absolutely. They're not endangered in the least. There's the usual paperwork involved in importing a pet, of course, but they're absolutely legal."

"Are they safe?" asked an older woman.

"Well, nothing is perfectly safe, but red-bellied black snakes don't usually attack humans unless they're provoked, as I said. When they feel threatened, they rear up, like cobras do, before striking. So if you ever see a snake that's holding his head up and hissing, back away slowly. He's warning you not to come any closer. You don't need to be afraid of him, but keep a respectful distance and don't bother him." _Just like some book sellers, _arrived in his head, and the angel looked over at Crawly, who was staring at him with what might almost be described as a smirk.

"Would anyone like to come up and say hello?" Aziraphale invited his audience.

Most of the adults hung back, but the children, particularly the youngest children, came forward eagerly. "One at a time, please. Let's not overwhelm him. You first, dear."

A little girl in a blue coat stepped forward and hesitantly reached out to stroke the snake's scales.

"That's good. Nice and easy. No, one direction, dear. It's a bit like rubbing a cat's fur the wrong way. It doesn't really hurt him, but he doesn't like it. Yes, just like that. All right, that's long enough. Everyone has to have a turn. Who's next?"

The meet and greet went on for some time, and thankfully reached the end of the line before Crawly lost patience. "All right, that's enough for today," Aziraphale said to the crowd. "Does anyone have any more questions before we call it a day?"

"Can we see him eat?" a teenage boy asked.

"I'm afraid not. He's already had his big meal of the day.[3] Snakes this size don't need to eat more than once every few days. It's a bit more frequent in the wild, but in captivity they don't need a lot of fussing over. They're quite easy to look after-as long as you don't let them loose."

"But he is loose," said a little girl. "He's right there."

"Ah, but I'm right here as well," Aziraphale pointed out. "He wouldn't dare try to get away with me watching him. Besides, where would he go?"

"I think Crawly's a dumb name," said a young man who was with the Jane Austen girl.

Crawly lifted his head and, apparently deciding he'd had enough, opened his jaws to let his fangs show.

"Down, boy." Aziraphale stroked the snake's head gently. "He actually came with the name, and I'm afraid I couldn't think of anything better. If you have suggestions, I'm willing to hear them. Another time. Let me put His Majesty away, and then I'll be back. In the meantime, feel free to have a look around."

He threw the cover over the stand with the snake still wrapped around it, and carried it through the shop and to the hidden staircase that led to his small apartment. Once through the door, he whipped off the canopy and said, "All clear."

There was a shimmering, a kind of full-body shiver, and then the snake became Crowley.

"Well," the demon said, "that was fun."

"Yes, it was, wasn't it? I wasn't sure I could say all that, in public. I was always terrible at public speaking. I preferred written reports to in-person because I always lost my train of thought when I was speaking to the . . . the other angels."

"It's different when you have an appreciative audience, isn't it?" Crowley picked up his jacket off the back of a chair and jingled his keys in the pocket. "Well, I'm off."

"What, so soon? Let's have a drink, at least."

"Nope. Lots to do for you-know-what."

"No," Aziraphale said. "I don't know what. Because you won't tell me!"

Crowley grinned. "But then it wouldn't be a surprise, would it? Don't bother calling tomorrow; I'll have my phone off."

"Exactly how involved is this surprise?"

"Still not telling! Ciao."

With that, the demon sauntered out the back door, whistling one of his favorite tunes. It was all loud and fast noise to Aziraphale. He sighed and went back downstairs to see if anyone wanted to buy anything.

Tomorrow he would just have to find ways to keep himself busy and not think about . . . that. Which was easier said than done. He'd just have to wait and see what this surprise turned out to be.

_(A/N: Sorry this took so long. I hadn't meant for this to be so long, but it got away from me. Part 3 will be up soon!)_

* * *

[1] Grandfather of the present Mr. Fell, according to those in the know.

[2] Well, nearly. The last six thousand years of it, anyway.

[3] This was true of the human form as well as the snake. Crowley was not fond of eating, didn't really need to, and generally avoided it unless he was out with Aziraphale.


	3. Chapter 3

_(A/N: Sorry for the lengthy delay! I had some computer troubles, but thankfully they've all been sorted out.)_

* * *

After hearing nothing at all from Crowley all day Thursday, Aziraphale was getting nervous. Just what was it the demon had planned for them?

He had a steady stream of customers in the shop all day Friday, mostly looking for gifts for Valentine's Day. Aziraphale had made a display of romantic books at the front of the shop[1], and these drew most of the attention, but some sought bestsellers or classics as well as the newer stuff.

At five of five he ushered the last customer out of the shop and rushed through the closing tasks. What normally took him fifteen minutes was done in six and a half. He rushed upstairs to change, but a new problem presented itself: what exactly had Crowley meant by "something nice"?

The gold waistcoat with the camel jacket and brown trousers? Was that nice enough? Good Lord, was Crowley bringing him to a black-tie establishment? What was the dress code?

He went back and forth for almost half an hour, torn between the camel jacket and the brown silk, and in the end decided to go with his original choice and hope the place wasn't too fancy. Shoes! He should wear his good shoes, not the dusty old everyday ones. Now where had he put them last time he had taken them off?

As he was bending down to check under the bed again, he heard the outer door open and slam. "It's me, angel!" Crowley called out.

"Yes, hang on, I'm just trying to find my shoes!" There they were, in the space between the closet and the bed. He untied them meticulously (and how tired had he been that he hadn't even bothered untying his shoes before removing them?) and then slipped them on, knotting them as quickly and efficiently as possible.

He came out to find the demon lounging on the sofa, his usual jacket upgraded to something with shiny lapels and a tie knotted around his neck. Aziraphale suddenly felt a bit underdressed.

"Um, is this . . . what I'm wearing, is it all right?" He turned around slowly so that Crowley could get the full effect.

"Yeah, it's fine."

"You're not looking properly!"

"Angel, I saw it! You look great."

Aziraphale smiled. "You're looking rather dapper yourself. Shall we go?"

"Our reservation isn't till six-thirty. We've got time."

"Oh, so we have a reservation, have we? Somewhere elegant?"

"You'll see when we get there. And then the curtain goes up at eight."

"Curtain?" Now Aziraphale was intrigued. "Are we going to see a show as well?"

"Not just any show. Something you'll really like."

"And this took you all day yesterday to prepare?"

"No, what I needed all day to prepare comes at the end of the night. Pack a bag; you're not coming back here tonight. Just a change of clothes should do."

"Really, you needn't have gone to all this trouble. I didn't even get you a card!"

"Don't need one." Crowley waved a hand dismissively. "I'm not doing this because I expect something in return. I just wanted us to go out and do something different, for one night. It just happened to fall on Valentine's Day. Don't read too much into it."

Aziraphale wasn't fooled. For all his professed disdain for the traditional day of love and romance, the demon loved doing something nice for his angel. "Well, thank you for going to all this trouble just for me. This is going to be a hard act to follow, I can tell."

"Don't worry about it. Just sit back, relax, and enjoy yourself. Let's go."

* * *

It was a nice restaurant, not quite as fancy as the places they usually went, but a step or two above the everyday. Aziraphale was surprised to find that they were not the best-dressed people in the place.

"It's a big night," Crowley told him as they were seated. "Biggest restaurant booking date of the year. Some places are all booked up months in advance."

"Months? You've been planning this for months?"

"Since Christmas, anyway. When I bought the tickets, I walked past this place, and I thought it would be nice for us to get a bite to eat before the show. It's not too casual for you, is it? I didn't want to have to wait until after the show to eat."

"No, no, it's very nice. A little change of pace."

A waitress dressed all in red with heart-shaped earrings dangling from her lobes brought them menus. "Happy Valentine's Day," she greeted them. "What can I get you to start?"

"You look very nice, my dear," Aziraphale said.

"Well, thank you! Would you like some drinks to start with?"

"Yes, I think we'll need a minute, thanks."

"What's this 'Valen-tini?'" Crowley inquired.

"It's a pomegranate martini, our special holiday drink of the day. Would you like to try it?"

"Oh, I don't-"

"That sounds lovely," Aziraphale interrupted. "Yes, we'll take it."

As soon as she was gone, Crowley turned to Aziraphale and said, "I'm not sure I want to try a pomegranate martini. Sounds a bit too frou-frou for me."

"Well, just taste it. If you don't like it, you can order something else."

"Fine."

"Have you figured out what you want to eat yet?"

"No, I'm still looking. Have you?"

"I think I might have the veal. It's been so long since I've had veal. Either that or the fish."

"They have fish? What kind?" Crowley flipped through the menu, which was only four pages long, searching for the seafood dishes.

"It's under 'Catch of the Day,' at the bottom here." The angel helpfully pointed it out on his own menu. "They have shrimp. You like shrimp."

"Do they? Oh, nice. All right then."

The waitress came back with their drinks, which were pink and came in cone-shaped glasses, fortunately without little umbrellas poking out of them. Crowley refused to drink anything that came with a little umbrella in the glass. It just wasn't dignified.

"Are we ready to order yet?" she asked them.

There was an awkward moment when Aziraphale and Crowley stared at each other, each waiting for the other to go first.

The angel blinked first. "I'm sorry, I suppose I should start. I'll have the veal. No, wait, the chicken. No, no, definitely the veal. Then again-"

Crowley rolled his eyes and said, "He'll have the veal, I'll have the shrimp. And a scotch on the rocks."

"Are you sure I shouldn't have the chicken?"

"You're getting the veal and that's final. You'll love it. Make that scotch a double, will you, love?"

The meal was lovely. After it was over and both plates had been scraped clean, Aziraphale declared that he was more than satisfied with the veal.

"Although I think the chicken would have been excellent as well."

"Maybe next time we come, you can have the chicken. Right now, we have to leave or we'll be late for the performance."

"Performance? Oh, is it a play, then?"

Crowley said nothing; his mile-wide grin said it all. "Let's go, angel."

* * *

They made it to the theater with a scant ten minutes until the show began. It wasn't the Globe Theater[2], but it was very nice and had real velvet on the seats. And their seats were close enough to the stage that they could see all the action, but not so close to the orchestra pit that they would be deafened by the music.

"It's a musical, then?" the angel asked.

"It's . . . a modern interpretation of a classic Shakespeare play," Crowley told him.

"Oh? Which one?"

"I suppose now we're here, I might as well tell you. _As You Like It._"

"Really?" Aziraphale's whole face lit up. "That's one of my favorites."

"I told you I like the funny ones."

"I hope they don't modernize it by throwing a lot of filthy language and unclothed bodies into it."

"No, no, it's very high-class."

"Oh, good."

The lights went down, and the music started. As the play began, Aziraphale leaned over and whispered, "This really is a wonderful surprise. It was worth waiting for."

"Oh, we're not done yet, angel," the demon said, his words an enticing hiss in the darkened theater. "You just wait and see what happens next."

Aziraphale started to ask what he meant by that, but once the first player took the stage, he was lost in the beautiful words, and the music that complemented them perfectly. And there weren't any dirty words or bare bottoms at all.

During the intermission, he and Crowley went out to the lobby with the rest of the audience. They had no need to use the restroom, but Aziraphale wanted to see if he could get another program. (He wanted a clean copy to keep as a souvenir; the one he'd been given upon entry was full of notes and margin jottings.)

"Heeeey!" a voice called out. "Snake man!"

Crowley looked around, terrified. "How did they find me here?"

Aziraphale spotted the young man who'd been at the demonstration that afternoon, along with the girl who'd bought the Jane Austen book. "I think he means me. Oh, hello! Fancy meeting you here."

"Well, y'know, Valentine's Day. First date. First official date, anyway. We go to the same college, but never talked to each other till today."

"Really?"

"We ran into each other in front of your shop," the girl said. "Found out we had two classes together, and one of 'em's Literature. So you'll be seeing a lot more of us from now on."

"Well, that's wonderful."

"Specially on Wednesdays," said the boy. "That snake is amazing!"

"I'll be sure to pass along to him that he has an admirer," Aziraphale promised, though there was no need as Crowley was right beside him.

The crowd started moving toward the main doors, and the angel said, "Oh, looks like the performance is starting again. We'd better go inside. Enjoy your date."

"You, too," the girl said, and the two young people disappeared into the throng before Aziraphale could correct her.

He turned to Crowley. "Imagine that. They thought we were on a date. Isn't that funny?"

Crowley gave him a look. "Angel, what do you think we're doing here?"

"Watching a play?"

The demon shook his head. "Come on, let's go find our seats."

Aziraphale followed him inside, and they returned to their seats just as the curtain went up again. However, he found it hard to concentrate on the familiar words because his mind was all in a whirl.

_A date? Really? I mean, it's not as if we're . . . are we? We're friends! And it took us nearly five millennia to get to that point! I mean, we're not really-_

Crowley nudged him, but gently. "You're missing it," he whispered.

"Oh. Sorry." The angel turned his attention back to the play. Well, so what if it was a date? He was enjoying it. It was the first time the two of them had seen a Shakespeare play together since . . . well, since the Bard himself was still writing. Good heavens, that was over four hundred years ago! Hardly any time at all for an immortal being, but it was four times a human lifetime. No wonder they were always rushing from one thing to another; they had so little time to get everything done.

It wasn't until the play was over, the lights had come up, and they were getting into the car that Aziraphale remembered the date/not date business.

"So if this is a date," he said, "what does that mean for us?"

"Hmm?" Crowley turned to him, and only when Aziraphale yelped for him to watch the road did he turn back in time to just miss colliding with a double-decker bus. "What do you mean, what does it mean?"

"Are you expecting anything from me, in return for this magnificent evening you have provided me?"

"You mean sex?"

"No!" The angel's eyes nearly fell out of his head. "I mean, we're not built for that. Nor do we have any desire to . . . to procreate."

"Hold that thought, angel. Wait till you see what happens next."

"What is happening next?" Aziraphale looked out the window and saw unfamiliar scenery flashing by. "Where are we going?"

"Out of the city. Away for the weekend."

"Away where?"

"In case you've forgotten, we do own a rather charming farmhouse in the country."

"Ah. No, I hadn't forgotten. We're going there?"

"There's something I want to show you. You'll love this. I hope."

"It's not rose petals scattered on the floor and a bubble bath for two, is it?"

"No! Where d'you get your ideas? It's nothing like that. You'll see."

* * *

The old farmhouse looked exactly as it had when they had spent Christmas there. At least, on the outside.

Well, almost the same, Aziraphale noted. "Have we got chickens now?"

"What?"

"The chicken coop's been repaired and painted. Have you brought the chickens in yet?"

"Not yet," Crowley told him. "I was thinking maybe in the spring. Course, we'd have to either be living here full-time or else hire someone to take care of them."

"I don't want to have to sell the shop just yet. Not when I'm starting to do some good. You were very popular, my dear."

"I know. We'll commute until it gets to be too much of a bother."

They unlocked the door and stepped inside. The plants in the kitchen had multiplied until they filled every corner.

"Did you bring all your plants over?" Aziraphale asked.

Crowley shrugged. "Most of 'em. The rest I'll plant out in the yard once it gets warm enough. I've got the perfect spot picked out. Now, come upstairs. This is what I really want to show you."

They climbed the stairs and made their way to the end of the hall. Aziraphale couldn't resist a peek inside his bedroom.

The bed was gone. In the space where the bed had been was a large desk with a computer setup and a stand for what looked like a large phone. More bookshelves had been set up, standing empty waiting to be filled.

"What's this?"

"Oh, I moved the bed out because you never sleep in your own bed. You either sit up reading in the chair, or you share with me. So I thought it was foolish to keep a bed you never use."

"It looks like you moved the office in here. So what's happened to my office?"

The demon's face lit up. "That," he said, "is what I have to show you."

The third door, just before the bathroom, was closed. Crowley opened it with a wave of his hand. He led the way inside, stopping about halfway into the room and twirling around like a dancer.

"Well? Well?"

"Well what?" Then Aziraphale looked around.

The walls had been repainted a soft green. There was a framed print of pastel zoo animals on one wall, a _Yellow Submarine**[3]** _poster on the other. The room was empty of furniture as yet, but the carpet had been replaced with something yellow and very thick.

"It looks a bit like Warlock's nursery," he observed.

Crowley just smiled.

"You don't mean-"

"I know I should have spoken with you first, but I wanted to get the ball rolling, because these things take years sometimes. I put in an application at an adoption agency."

Aziraphale was speechless.

"I told them we'd take whatever child needed us most. An older child, a special needs child, whatever. That's why I didn't put in a bed or a crib or anything, till we know what we need. We may end up with a teenager and have to redo the whole room."

The angel was still staring at him, open-mouthed. "You did all this yourself?"

"Yeah, I had to, if I wanted to keep it a secret. Why? Did you want to help?"

"Of course I want to help! I want to be part of this, too! Did you put the application in both our names, or just yours?"

"Both. Oh, by the way, we're married now. For legal purposes, anyway. Otherwise it would have taken three times as long-what? What is it?"

The angel was laughing. "I'm sorry, it's just . . . this evening started off not even being a date, and now it's ending with us married."

"Only on paper."

"Paper or not, you've got to admit that things have escalated rather quickly."

"I still go too fast for you?" Crowley couldn't resist.

Aziraphale smiled. "Yes, you do, but it's part of what makes you, you, and I wouldn't change it for the universe. You're a wily old serpent and I love you."

There. It had been said. For the first time, the actual words had been uttered. Now all he had to do was wait to see how they would be received.

Crowley took off his glasses so that his yellow, slit-pupiled eyes were staring directly into Aziraphale's blue ones. "I know," he said. "I love you, too."

And that was it. They didn't need hearts and flowers. A simple declaration would do for them; it was all they needed.

Aziraphale put the kettle on, Crowley lit a fire, and they spent the rest of the evening watching a television program that wasn't the slightest bit romantic.[4]

Then they went to bed.[5]

* * *

[4] It was a murder mystery, and not many people find murder very romantic.

[5] To **sleep**, not . . . whatever it is you were thinking.

* * *

[3] Crowley would never admit to liking the Beatles, but he had all their albums, in every medium in which they had been published.

* * *

[1] Although he refused to carry anything too explicit, there was some erotica represented.

[2] Which was quite some distance away; making it there in ten minutes would have required a major miracle.


End file.
